between the shadow and the soul
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: Sequel to Burn, SPOILERS for Sen II/III/IV. A late night conversation between the Azure Abyss and her Chevalier; a momentary glance at how love glimmers even in the dark.


**between the shadow and the soul**

AN: I repeat, SPOILERS for Sen II/III/IV.

Second, this story takes some… liberties with the final event at Mishelam, namely in that the sequence of events depicted here cannot actually occur in game. (Rean going drinking with Crow/Machias = Rean alone that night, for one thing). Creative license; gotta love it!

* * *

The familiar sensation of magic crackling in the still air is enough to rouse you from your fitful sleep, though you make sure to keep your eyes closed until you feel the energy's died down. You haven't forgotten how flashy Hexen teleportation is, and in the condition you're in the last thing you need is a firework show to make up for the one you missed.

You wait, and in your mind you picture how the Azure Abyss probably looks right now; arms crossed, eyebrow raised, and almost certainly unimpressed with your current state of affairs.

"Had a little too much fun, did we?" Vita finally inquires in lieu of a proper greeting, her solicitous words balanced by her mocking undertone.

"Nah. If anything, I had just the right amount; too little and my night's wasted, too much and I'd probably be emptying out my stomach right about now, y'know?" you reply glibly, cracking an eye open and smirking at her barely repressed sniff. "Couple of birdies tell me that we weren't the only ones, either."

"Who's more foolish; the fool or the fool who follows?" the witch deadpans, tilting her head, and even in the room's dim light you can make out her violet eyes, the familiar glow fading into nothing as the last of her mana dissipates. "You weren't wrong, but you should also note that I'm still upright and functioning."

You snort, wincing at the wave of pain it causes. "Congratulations. I'd give you a cookie, but they're over there – " you wave a hand somewhere vaguely close to the suite's kitchen, "and I'm all the way over here. You can see my problem."

"I'll try to contain my disappointment," she says wryly, taking a few steps closer to presumably evaluate you.

You save her the trouble. "I'll be fine. This isn't my first rodeo, and besides; someone had to actually drink tonight."

"Oh? Did the other two not?"

"Not really. Rean was too busy zoning out to really get hammered – can't say I blame him – and Aidios Herself probably couldn't convince Machias to really cut loose for once. He eased up pretty quickly."

"So of course, you took it upon yourself to pick up the slack."

"It's a tough job, but someone had to follow Instructor Sara's lead and hop on the first train to booze town. Why not me?"

Vita snickers quietly, and you wonder how long it's been since you've heard that. "They'll tell stories about your noble sacrifice, I'm sure."

"Fat chance. It's not like a ton of people jumped to do it for my last one," you quip easily, and you're not surprised to see that she isn't fazed in the slightest; she was never one for being thrown off-balance by gallows humor.

"Maybe the second time's the charm, then."

A dismissive shrug. "Maybe. How'd you know to come check on me, anyway?"

Vita merely smiles, enigmatic as ever. "Like you said, birdies talk."

"Ugh," you sigh in exasperation, realizing through the haze that there was only one sensible answer. "Machias is the worrywart to end all worrywarts, I swear."

Her eyebrows raise. "That's presumptuous. When did I ever say it was Class VII's prodigy inspector?"

"No one else it could have been. He and I eventually convinced Rean to stop brooding and just go find Alisa already," you explain with an eye-roll, regretting it almost immediately as your fading headache returns with a vengeance, "so that left Machias to drag my carcass back up here. Credit to him; he was a pal about it. Coulda bitched a lot more than he did."

You pause, recalling the parting comments you tossed his way, and a mischievous smile soon finds itself sliding onto your face. "So what, he just tracked you down and asked you to play babysitter?" you ask innocently (or what passes for it with you, anyway), waiting.

"That's about the size of it. All things considered, I rather enjoyed him more when he could barely squeeze out two syllables around me," Vita murmurs with a playful grin, practically daring you to take the bait. "It was nice to know that Misty had such dedicated fans."

Goddess, too easy.

"Eh, she was all right, I guess. But there comes a time in every man's life when he's gotta set the childhood dreams aside and push for something better. Speaking of which, where'd he wind up going after he tattled on me, anyway?"

She stiffens, taken aback, before she sniffs indignantly and shoots you an annoyed glare.

You flash her a cheeky grin, not bothering to disguise your amusement in the slightest. Victories of any kind over the Azure Abyss were rare, and you planned to savor this one.

"I think he went to go see Emma about something," Vita answers tonelessly as her expression returns to cool nonchalance, though your sharp eyes notice the slight but baleful twitch of her left cheek.

"Huh. Imagine that, he pulled a Rean. Gee, I wonder what they could be up to…?"

The twitch is more noticeable this time, you note, and you idly wonder how much worse it would get if she found out about the not so subtle encouragement you offered over your shoulder as you stumbled into your suite.

Not that Machias had needed a lot of it.

"I'm sure your mind can fill in the blanks," she eventually says, and you swear there's the faintest tinge of rose to her fair complexion.

You raise your fist as best you can in a triumphant gesture of solidarity, your grin growing ever wider even as she shakes her head in exasperation. "That's m'boy!"

"And that's my sister," Vita reminds you, a pained grimace flashing over her features. "I'd prefer not to think about that, thank you very much."

You chuckle and let your eyes close again, your head sinking into the soft pillow, and moments later you feel the cool touch of a palm against your forehead before it pulls away.

"How do you feel?"

It's a loaded question, one with layers upon layers, but you suppose it's fitting. You've never had a single straightforward conversation with Vita, and far be it from her to break that time honored routine on your account.

"Not awful. Not great. My head kinda hurts and I'm not gonna be moving anytime soon, but like I said; I've had worse," you answer, deciding to take her inquiry at face value. "Don't think I hurled once, come to think of it."

"Hmph. You're still better off than others I can think of," she grouses, sounding vexed, and you have a feeling that the current Hexen elder may have gone a little bit overboard.

"Ah, gotcha. So you're saying I'm the second patient for you tonight, then?"

"First," Vita says curtly. "She can fend for herself."

Somehow you muster up the energy to chuckle again, but soon that peters out and all that remains is weighty silence; something that your companion takes it upon herself to break.

"I wasn't strictly talking about the alcohol, you know."

Of course she wasn't.

"Huh. Color me surprised," you mutter, wearily pulling yourself up to a sitting position so you can look the woman in the eye, the pleasantries over and done with. "What do you want me to say? I don't exactly have a speech prepared."

She shrugs, you sigh, and you can't help but notice how little things have really changed between you and her.

"I don't know, okay? I mean, let's face it - I'm not supposed to be here," you confess in a rough exhale, your fingertips coming up to brush over where you were wounded that fateful day. "I'm not, and it's still kinda weird whenever I'm dumb enough to stop and think about it."

Vita laughs quietly at that, faintly amused. "I can only imagine."

"I mean, I thought it was _over_ before. I took the shot at Osborne, a couple of months pass and Class VII eventually shows up with Valimar packing a kickass sword courtesy of George, you set up the mother of all throw-downs between me and Rean, and then…"

"You died."

An involuntary shiver runs through you. If she notices, she says nothing.

"Well, yeah," you echo, the words sounding hollow. "Yeah. You think I'd be used to the idea, considering all the time I've had, but things don't work out the way we plan sometimes."

A commiserating noise. "They rarely do."

"Right? And now I'm back, and if everything goes well…"

Your hands curl into fists when the words die on your tongue, and you're not ashamed when you recognize the bitter cold in your gut as fear of the most primal kind.

Odd as it sounded, it had been so much easier last time, because your iron will had every intention of coming out of that battle alive and hadn't let the slightest possibility of failure enter your mind. When Testa-Rossa had struck its decisive blow, there had been no time to be concerned or retreat, or even notice that your wound was fatal – you had to press on, moving forward, forward, forward, until finally, you fell.

Ever the tragic hero to the end, you suppose. Still, there was a chance you could have survived that whole mess, slight as it may have been. But not now, you muse, not now.

No matter how often the coin is flipped or the die is cast, there's only one possible way this story can end, and this time it scares you in a way that it never could have before because this time you _know_ it's coming, screaming toward you like a speeding bullet that you can't dodge no matter how hard you try.

Some people might say there's a measure of peace that can come hand in hand with the inevitable. You're of the opinion that those people know – to use an Angie phrase – fuck all.

"If everything goes well," you continue with a grin you don't feel in the slightest as you flop back down, "maybe it'll hurt less this time around."

Your keen eyes catch the barest hint of a flinch as they close, and as pathetic as it sounds you hope she takes the hint and leaves you to wallow. You're not panicking or raging against what's to come (you're past that, you think) but a little bit of brooding isn't particularly unwarranted, you feel.

Instead, she sighs and sits down next to you, not uttering a word in reply. Unlike earlier, her silence is unnerving, and truth be told you're not sure if you want her to say anything or not.

You take a sharp breath when you feel her hand settle where your fingers had just been, right over your once pierced heart, and for a second or two you swear you can taste the copper tang of blood.

"… I thought I managed to take most of the edge off, before."

She sounds a little hesitant, almost ashamed, and much to your mutual surprise the laughter bubbles up before you can stop it.

"Don't sweat it. Your magic's pretty potent and you were using a lot of it, but c'mon. I had a fist size hole through my chest, Vita. I'm not gonna hold it against you that it still hurt like hell."

It had been a hard end to a hard life, but if you're being honest with yourself, it was nothing you didn't deserve. After all, while your comrades might have forgiven 'C' and his actions in the name of the ILF, there were far too many in the Empire that would curse your name until the bitter end. You had done too much, and good will only went so far.

"So. You're ready, then?" Vita asks you softly, and you remember a very similar question being put to you a little while before everything turned upside down. You had been so brash back then, so confident, so young.

You know better now. After all, life was the best teacher, so it makes a twisted sort of sense that death would be too.

"Nope," you answer with a shake of your head, your voice suddenly hoarse because you can't ever forget what it's like to die. "Not this time. Not even close."

You've lied to so many without shame or hesitation, yet cloaked in the shadows that had safeguarded you for so long, you can't find it in yourself to lie to her. Not now.

Somewhere through the raging pulse of blood roaring in your ears, you hear "… It's all right to be afraid, I think."

"Well that's a relief," you scoff, not having missed the slight tremor in her attempt at comfort, "because I'm pretty damn terrified."

She doesn't answer, but you feel her slim fingers tracing a gentle trail upwards from your chest to your crown, and you exhale slowly when you feel them gingerly wind their way through your white hair.

You lie there and you let yourself breathe, your chest rising and falling, and it takes a second or two before you realize she's speaking again.

"Goddess. Things are never easy for you, are they?"

"Nope, but I guess it comes with the territory. I knew what I was getting into way back when, or at least I thought I did. Besides, it's not like I'm alone here. If anything, I'd say Rean's got it worse."

Vita sniffs at that. "It's hardly a competition."

"Yeah, yeah. But if it was, he'd be winning. Or losing. Whatever the worse one is."

If anyone had been dealt a truly crappy hand, it was Rean, no doubt. Your life might have a difficult one, filled with strife and heartache, but ultimately it was a life you **chose**. What had Rean done to deserve any of the crap that had been tossed his way? He wasn't a hotheaded punk out for revenge at any cost; his only sins were being born and trying to take the weight of world on his shoulders whenever he could so that no one else would have to, and somehow that had gotten him in even deeper than you were. Talk about fair, huh?

You're relieved that he and Alisa had found each other, you truly are. Rean deserved a little happiness after everything that had gone on, and when the end came… well, he'd have those memories. That was something.

"Crow?"

You've never seen her like this before, her bright eyes clouded over with something you can't quite place, and when she says your name, it sounds like a funeral dirge.

"What's up?"

Vita works her jaw, once, twice, three times, and her next words, heavy with regret, come in a whisper as her palm slides down to cup your cheek.

"… I'm sorry I can't save you."

The clock on the wall turns past midnight.

There are a hundred things you can say. In the face of such candor, none of them seem adequate, because when your tired eyes catch ahold of hers, you know you're staring only at the woman with the witch nowhere to be seen.

You finally shake your head once, your expression gentle. "Don't be. It's not in your job description, anyway. I'm an Awakener, remember? The Azure Chevalier, and all that?"

"And I'm the Azure Abyss. For me, ensuring one person's salvation should be…"

She trails off, sounding proud and defiant and bitter all at once, and despite everything you can't stop the corners of your mouth from curling upwards in a quiet, grateful smile.

"Hey," you interrupt with a chuckle, craning your head up and truly _looking,_ your gaze going from her violet eyes to the sandstone cascade that spills gracefully down her back to lips that for once do not bear an enigmatic smirk or a teasing smile. "You know I'm still here for the moment, right?"

This is not the Hexen spellcaster, nor the Heimdallr opera star, nor the second Anguis of Ouroboros. This is _your_ Vita, and no one else's; the one that's bound to you by something that transcends words, the one that's refuge and sanctuary for your weary, wounded soul.

She blinks twice, confused, and little by little you can feel the fear receding, slipping away into the dark as your anxious heart calms.

"I'm still here," you repeat, letting your own hand settle atop hers, your fingers weaving together like it was the most natural thing in the world. "And yeah, I'm a little freaked out by what's coming up, but if my chips are getting cashed out sooner rather than later then you need to know something first."

For the first time you can remember, she's utterly speechless. Miracle of miracles.

"I don't regret a thing, Vita. Meeting you, Ordine, Rean and the others, Towa, George, Angie, even dying – none of it," you tell her, watching as her words fade away like mist before they even have a chance to leave her mouth. "I mean it. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm still your knight until my last card's been dealt. So don't apologize to me, okay? Not when there's nothing to apologize for."

She stares at you wordlessly for a moment longer before turning away, and it takes a second or two for it to sink in that she's trying not to laugh.

Well, that makes one of you.

"You're a fool," she murmurs.

"Guilty as charged, but if I were smart then I wouldn't be here. And after everything that's gone on, I _have_ to be here."

Goddess above, you're pretty sure you haven't said anything that corny since your resurrection. You figure you can blame it on the liquor. Or Rean.

She collects herself and looks at you again, her expression bittersweet. "You're a stronger person than I am, then."

"If you say so. But I'm only where I am because of you," you tell her sincerely through half-lidded eyes, because you will not commit sacrilege by pretending otherwise. "We… We've been through a lot together, you and I."

Vita says nothing to that, but her expression softens and you know – somehow, you _know_ – she understands.

It's a small admission, something that doesn't come close to defining what lies between the both of you (because Goddess, what the hell could?) but then again most stories aren't wrapped up in neat little packages when all's said and done. If yours is no exception, hey; you can live with that.

"You should try to get back to sleep," Vita finally tells you, but makes no move to leave or even relinquish your hand. "Long day."

"No kidding. You mind doing me a favor before you leave, though?" and though you think she knows what you'll ask, she humors you with a nod anyway.

"I don't see why not."

"… Can you stick around until I nod off?"

She smiles for you, and it's still the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"I'll stay for as long as you need me to," and when your eyes slowly flutter closed and your tired body eases into slumber, the last thing you register is the melodic sound of her humming; your first and final lullaby, a song to call you home.

* * *

You dream of happy days gone by with your grandfather. You dream of classes at Thors with Towa, Angie, and George. You dream of the vast, endless ocean, with nothing but azure as far as the eye can see.

You wake up alone, with your empty room bathed in radiant light and the hazy memory of soft lips upon your face.

* * *

 _"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_  
 _or the arrow of the carnations the fire shoots off._  
 _I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_  
 _in secret, between the shadow and the soul."_

– Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII


End file.
